Are You Ready for Some Football?

It's the most wonderful time of the year.

For my husband.

It's football season.

I'm hoping this means its also the end of basketball season, which has been going on since the last ice age if my calculations are correct.

My husband is in his element, stocking the house with Doritos and Beer and jerky, enough to survive the apocalypse if necessary. He plans to hole up every weekend where he will watch all of his beloved football games from the safety of his man cave.

 It wouldn't be so bad except that he likes college football and the NFL
AND he wants me in the house with him while he is watching.(I don't have to actually participate in the watching - though it is encouraged and I can earn bonus points - he just wants me to be part of the 'experience').

"Don't you want to watch the game with the guys?" I've asked.

"Nope, I love being in my house watching them with you. Hey, when I was in college we used to eat something called frozen turkey loaf for dinner when we watched football. Maybe we can do that?" he asks hopefully.

"Of course, dear." Lucky me.

I could probably weather the next five months a little better if football wasn't on in every room in the house: the man cave, the living room, on every computer screen. Then we get to listen to updates in the car.

I need a plan.

"Let's make a pact this year," I tell him as I'm prepping myself for the Fall lineup.

He responds with a gulp and an 'uh-oh'.

"Let's only have sports on in one room of the house?" I smile like this is a kind, reasonable request.

He fans himself in a panic.

"In just one room? How will I know what's going on in the other games I'm not watching?"

"You can record them."

"What if you're not here?"

"If I'm not here, then you can have football on in all the rooms. BUT if I've just stepped out of the room to, say, make YOU a sandwich, then no, you can't turn over the channel."

He contemplates this, his brain not quite computing.

"What if you're sleeping?" he presses.

"If I'm sleeping you can have it on in the rooms I'm not sleeping in. But it has to be verified. I can't be sprawled out across the couch watching reruns of Big Bang Theory. That's not sleeping. It's resting. It's not okay to turn the channel then."

"I can take a picture of you and prove you are asleep."

"I guess that works."

I feel bad for the guy. I know how much this means to him. But I also like to watch my cheesy yet quaint Hallmark holiday movies and catch up on my Grey's Anatomy reruns. It's a give and take relationship.

"How about," he tries one more time as he trundles down the stairs towards the den, a bag of chips in his hand, "if you die. Would you be upset if you die and came back to haunt me and ALL the TVs were turned to football?"

I arch an eyebrow at him. "No. If I'm dead, watch what you like. But it has to be an accidental death. Remember, there is no football in prison."

He smiles and returns to attention to Sportscenter.